Chapter 451: Sniper (1/2)

”Alright then. Thank you,” I replied.

”Oh, we’re family. There’s no need to be so polite!” laughed Song Shichao.

I lay in my seat in repose. An unknown amount of time passed before the car came to an abrupt stop. Waking up from my nap, I assumed we arrived at the railway station but I found the vehicle parked by a deserted stretch of the mountain road. Left and right of us were cliffs.

Turning to Song Sichao, I asked, ”Why did we stop?”

Song Shichao patted the dashboard, ”That’s strange, why have we run out of gas? I’m certain I filled the tank when I left...”

The three of us got out and examined the vehicle. I immediately caught a whiff of gasoline. Looking down, I found the fuel tank intact. However, Song Xingchen went around the other side and called, ”Young Master, over here!”

We walked over and discovered a small hole in the fuel tank that appeared to have been caused by a bullet. In movies, cars exploded once the fuel tank was hit but in truth, that was all fake. A bullet to the fuel tank wouldn’t really cause an explosion.

Someone obviously used a silencer when shooting a hole in the fuel tank while we were traveling at high speeds. Since the shot was made from the other side of the fuel tank, I surmised our shooter had sharp marksmanship.

I felt a chill crawl up my spine at such a thought. If this bullet had been aimed at my head instead of the fuel tank, I would be a headless body right now.

Song Xingchen frowned, ”Something’s wrong. We have to go.”

”Uncle Xingchen, what are we going to do about your luggage?” asked Song Sichao.

”Forget about that. Our lives are more important!” urged Song Xingchen.

As soon as the words fell from his lips, we noticed a fleet of trucks around the bend of the Panshan Highway. The three of us exchanged a look of consternation.

“Run!” shouted Song Xingchen.

A big truck accelerated instantly towards us, slamming into the off-road vehicle. The railing on the other side of the road collapsed and the vehicle was pushed over the cliff. Rolling and bumping along the rocks, it finally fell to the bottom.

The truck stopped on the side of the road with half of the front almost suspended in midair. A group of burly men jumped out of the truck with iron rods, axes, watermelon knives and other weapons in their hands, reeking of ill intent.

Song Xingchen quietly placed his hand on his Tang Sword and coldly asked, ”Hello there, which mountain are you from?”

Upon hearing Song Xingchen speak in Jianghu slang, the leader of these men sneered, ”Don’t worry, we’re not here to kill anyone. We just want to borrow something from you.”

”What is it?” I asked.

He spoke in such an understated tone that I wondered if I misheard him. Is this something you could borrow?

Song Xingchen whispered, ”You two run and I’ll deal with them!”

”No, I’m a martial Song as well,” protested Song Sichao. Turning to me, he said, “Uncle, you hide while we deal with them.”

Song Xingchen slowly pulled out his sword halfway, ”I don't know if you’re crazy or are up to something. Whatever it is, you’ll have to go through me if you’re thinking of hurting him!”

”If you know what’s for your own good, you’ll get out of the way,” spat the leader. “But since you don’t, you asked for it! Get him!”

Upon his command, the other men charged towards us. With a graceful slash, Song Xingchen broke the iron rod in one of the men’s hands and kicked him in the abdomen so he fell on his companions.